


Bake Me Your Feelings

by vudonn



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 04:56:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14229741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vudonn/pseuds/vudonn
Summary: Phil's a restaurant critic, and the new café he visited is entirely indescribable.





	Bake Me Your Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> there was that one textpost about phineas owning a cafe i think on tumblr and id link it if i knew where it was so ig ill just say yeah that was a thing that kinda inspired this
> 
>  
> 
> this took me wayy too long to write but ig im more or less happy w the way it turned out
> 
> i post the exact same fics on tumblr if u wanna go there: vudonn.tumblr.com

It shouldn’t be taking so long to find just a single restaurant, but the streets are way too crowded with people at this time of day. Phil’s, sadly enough, too short to see above most of their heads, so he’d resorted to following a confusing map around. He’d promised his readers a detailed review on what claimed to be _The Greatest Café_ , which seems like quite the cocky thing to claim. He was quite curious himself whether it truly was so great, but to know for sure, he’d have to find it first, which was frustratingly challenging at this point.

He was close to giving up when he saw it, the biggest, brightest sign that only an idiot–like himself–could have missed. A bright red and yellow sign that just screamed egotism, and it seemed so out-of-place and like such a nuisance in the more or less monochrome plaza. Still, it was his destination, and he headed towards the nuisance of a sign.

The design of the inside was actually quite different from the sign, full of shades of yellow that were pleasing to his eyes and a quiet hum of people’s conversation that gave off a really nice atmosphere. Phil got in line to order, still eyeing the decor all around, like the cutely drawn coffee cup or the various pictures of what could only be employees. He was already thinking of the nice things he could say in his review when he reached the front of the line.

“Welcome to _The Greatest Café_! I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” Phil almost ran into the counter because _holy shit_ –he could not keep his eyes off the man in front of him. All bright smiles that matched the conceited sign outside and sly eyes that made Phil feel like he knew everything about him. He was wearing a bright red suit that complimented every single part of him, and a nametag was clipped onto it that said, _Phineas_. It almost felt like the world was being cruel to him today, and this was so entirely unfair. Phil had to force himself to stop gaping, and damn it, he really needed to get this review and didn’t have time for this.

It took a long time for him to form a response, mostly because he’d forgotten what he was even supposed to respond to and his mouth was so dry, he could hardly open it. When he did, all he could muster was, “Haha, yeah, I’m a popular restaurant critic.”

“Oh, restaurant critics. Those are always fun. What’s your name?”

“Philip Carlyle–or rather, you can just call me Phil.”

“Well, I can assure you I’ve never heard of you in my life.” Phil tried his best not to look surprised by that, but it didn’t exactly work. “Forget that. You ought to order now. You’re holding up the line.”

There were exactly two people behind him. Phil looked up at the gigantic and honestly, quite threatening menu then back to Phineas. “Um, what would you recommend?”

“Oh, I’ve got just the thing that’s sure to impress you!” Phil swore something about the grin he was flashed, but he just sat down at a booth by the large windows and brushed off whatever suspicions he had.

Eventually, Phineas placed a plate in front of him with an exaggerated smile, and Phil tried to smile back nicely. It was hard not to be distracted by _whatever the fuck_ was on the plate. Phil had seen a lot of eccentric things on his journey to becoming a well-known restaurant critic, but this one takes the cake–haha, it’s a cake. Well, it looked like it should be a cake, but the various layers were stacked like someone slapped them on with little care. The layers were also strange colors, purple, green, and blue, none of which were too appealing. Whatever frosting was hastily smeared over it and oozing out between each bright color was just as unfortunate, some sauce whose color suggested it was chocolate. Phil was quite certain this cake was not on the menu, and if it was, it most certainly _shouldn’t be_.

Still, this is his job, so he hesitantly picked up the fork and piled on a little bit of every color found in the cake.

It tasted sweet, extremely so, like someone dumped an entire package of sugar into the recipe. Not only that, there was also a slight sourness mixed into it, something like lime that just separated itself entirely from the sugary taste. The brown substance, which Phil had thought to be chocolate, tasted of coffee, adding yet another flavor to the mixture. The cake felt weird in his mouth, too soggy and most likely underbaked.

It was the worst thing Phil’s ever tasted.

He bit back his gag because Phineas was watching him with excited eyes, but he couldn’t help but glance around to make sure no one else was reacting like he was to this monstrosity. All the other patrons seemed to be enjoying their meals, which just made Phineas more suspicious, and the man was walking over now, which could only mean bad things. Phil still had a bite of the demon spawn of a cake in his mouth, and his body refused to swallow it for whatever reason. “Do you like the cake?”

Phil nodded.

“Oh, good,” Phineas said, his smile brightening even more–if that was possible. “I knew you would. I made it especially for you! I hope you finish it.”

And if that was a fucking challenge, Phil took it, swallowing his first bite out of pure spite. It took two entire bottles of water–which cost more than the cake itself, how ridiculous–to wash it down, but his plate was empty when he stood up from the table. The tip Phineas got was definitely not what he deserved, but that’s too bad. Phil passed him again as he was walking out, who wore a–dare he say–impressed expression, and Phil just smirked back.

He had the audacity to call after Phil, “Come again sometime!”

The restaurant review wasn’t written that night, nor the next because what the fuck would he write? _The food they served me but no one else was god awful, and the barista is a cocky little shit. It’s all okay, though, because said barista’s hotness makes up for literally everything._ Instead, he polished and published a draft he’d written a while ago on a shitty seafood place across town. There were a few people wondering whatever happened to him figuring out whether that one café really is the greatest, but Phil ignored those few people.

“Ah, Phil the restaurant critic is back for more, I see,” Phineas greeted him as soon as he walked through the door. The place was relatively quiet around this time, so Phil just walked up to the register. “Y’know, I noticed you didn’t write a review for us yet.”

“Still making my mind up. That’s why I’m here again, I suppose,” Phil said, shrugging as nonchalantly as possible.

“That’s fair. It is very difficult to find synonyms to greatest.” Oh, this man was just asking for Phil to hate him. “What can I get you today?”

“I don’t know. What would you recommend?” That grin was just as evil as last time.

The cookies placed in front of him seemed innocent enough, and Phil almost wanted to believe that they were just that, normal cookies. Each one was cut into various animal-like shapes, and the frosting on each one was red, like Phineas’s sleeve that brushed against Phil’s face–and red like Phil’s face afterward, but that was far less important. Phineas said, “Fresh out of the oven! I call them my circus animals.”

“Clever.”

“Don’t I know it,” he laughed, and Phil rolled his eyes before looking back down at the cookies. The elephant shaped one almost seemed to be taunting him with its nonexistent face, and because Phil was not in the mood to be challenged by _anyone_ –not even that fucking elephant and especially not Phineas–he bit the animal’s head off.

The least noticeable taste was the sweetness a cookie is supposed to have. The most noticeable was definitely the burn that reached his tongue and pierced tears in his eyes, and Phil decided that he was an idiot because what else would the bright red frosting be? The fucker was spicy, so much so that Phil dropped the headless elephant on the pile of others and looked around through tears for his water. The water that he didn’t order and therefore didn’t exist. Phil stood up and marched over to Phineas, who was clearly trying to hide his laughs as he served another customer. Phil rasped out, “Water.”

“Sorry?” The other customer was staring at Phil, red-faced and crying Phil cursing out the barista who apparently couldn’t understand Phil’s request. Phineas said, not to Phil, “Have a good day, ma'am.”

“Thank you, you too.” Phil tried his best not to flip both of them off as they took their sweet time. Phineas slowly turned towards Phil with a smile.

“Water.”

“Oh! You need a bottle of water? Of course, dear valued customer, coming right up.” Phil took the bottle as soon as Phineas walked out of the kitchen with it before gulping it down. Phineas was smirking as he watched, and Phil would be pissed but like he’d give him the satisfaction of seeing him flip out.

Instead, he said, “Those cookies are really good. What’s in them?”

“Oh, it’s an old family recipe. Can’t share it with anyone, not even you, Restaurant Critic Phil.”

“That’s just too bad.” Phil pouted, feigning anguish, then walked back to his seat. 

It took a while to finish that stupidly large pile of cookies, but Phil managed to walk out of the shop without flipping anyone off.

Phil came back a third time, and maybe he’s just asking for it now, but fuck him if he was going to stop seeing the most attractive man he’d ever met because it was hard to stomach some food said man served. Meanwhile, his review was still put off–the document on his desktop that was still entirely empty except for three words: “Shit he’s hot.” 

Phineas greeted him with his signature smile when he said, “Hello! What can I get you today?”

“Well, whatever you recommend.” Whatever Phineas recommended apparently cost twenty dollars, which was outrageous, but Phil just paid the price with a sigh and chose a booth to sit at.

It took, as expected, awhile for Phineas to reappear from the kitchen, and when he did, he was carrying two mugs. He set one down in front of Phil while he slid into the booth. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you.”

“Of course not.” Phil, for the longest time, just stared at Phineas as he took slow sips from his cup. Whatever it was smelled delicious, and the drink left a brown mustache above the man’s lips. He was looking out the window with wide eyes, like the people going about their lives out there was the most exciting thing in the world. Phil was staring too much.

“Aren’t you going to drink yours?”

“Right, how could I forget.” Phil flushed red before looking down at his cup. “Uh, Phineas, what is this?”

“Your drink.”

“This… is a single coffee bean in a cup of water.”

“Your drink.” Well, the sweet moment was fun while it lasted, and Phil took a sip of his warm water. Phineas finished drinking his coffee surprisingly quickly, and he stood up and took his cup away. Before he left, though, he made sure to mention, “Thanks for buying me a coffee, by the way.”

“What?” Phil pulled out his receipt, and sure enough, the _coffee bean in water_ cost only a dollar. He whispered, mostly to himself, “Son of a bitch.”

Phil came back again and again, and Phineas served him and sat with him while he ate each time. At least he wasn’t being charged for Phineas’s coffees anymore. That and he got to talk with Phineas a lot, even if it was over plates of nasty dishes no one should eat. Phil had to admit, they were getting creative. There were so many different things, ranging from a cake pop that just turned out to be an extremely frosted grape, an entire peeled lemon sliced up and put between bread to make “A sandwich, of course,” and oh so many horrific variations of coffee. Phil finished each and every one, even the coffee that was more vinegar than coffee ground.

And yeah, maybe it was sad that he couldn’t bring himself to do anything besides eat the man’s food and laugh at his stupid jokes, not even, say, ask to hang out outside of the few times he comes to the café a week, but to Phil, it was enough.

He brought Anne with him the twenty-third time he decided to visit the restaurant–mostly because she’d been pestering him for weeks now about the cute barista he was apparently going through hell for. Phil was mostly concerned about whether they would be served disgusting food if she was there.

“Oh, I see what you mean,” she said when they settled in Phil’s usual booth, Anne sitting where Phineas normally does. “I mean, it’s a pass for me, but I see what you mean.”

Anne had ordered some kind of pie and a black coffee, while Phil ordered, as usual, anything Phineas recommended.

“He’s glaring at me,” Anne said.

“What?”

“The guy–the one your head over heels for?” She shouldn’t have said that so loudly, and Phil let her know with an even louder shush. “I think he’s jealous!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Anne. There’s nothing to be jealous of.” Phil didn’t dare glance behind him to the register counter.

“Oh, but there is! It’s not like he knows you’re gayer than Christmas–”

“What does that even mean?”

“Shut up, and let me finish.” Anne rolled her eyes. “He thinks you and I are…”

She made a rather obscene gesture with her hands, and Phil reached out immediately to grab them and shove them onto the table. “There are children present! You can’t do that!”

“He looks even angrier now,” Anne laughed quietly, and oh no, it looked like Phil was holding hands with her. Phil retreated quickly while Anne laughed. “I think it’s working. Make him jealous, and he’ll make the first move, won’t he?”

“How do you even know he’s interested?”

“Oh, trust me, he is. All we need to do is make him jealous.”

“Is that really how flirting works?”

“You think eating bad food is any better?”

“Touché.” Phil grabbed Anne’s hand again. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Just hold my hands and laugh a lot and look like you’re in love with me.” Phil stared at her with a confused expression. “Whatever, just hold my hand then.”

He did, and they just sat there like that while they waited for food, talking like they usually would about recent events and what not.

“Here’s your food!” Phineas didn’t even bother faking a sweet smile as he practically slammed two plates and Anne’s drink onto the table. It separated their hands, but Anne was too busy staring at Phil’s food to notice, and, to be fair, so was Phil. “Have a lovely day!”

“What _is_ that?” she said, and Phil was asking the same question in his head.

“A cake?” It looked like a piece of charcoal, and something told Phil that black color was not frosting. It just looked like the burnt remnants of what used to be not even a good looking cake. Phil picked up his fork.

“You’re gonna eat that?”

“I’ve eaten everything else he’s given me, haven’t I?” It tasted like a piece of charcoal too, not that Phil knows what charcoal tasted like. Burning, that’s what it tasted like, and Phil really didn’t want to finish this without water. He looked back at Phineas, who was angrily scrubbing at the counter with a torn rag, and decided maybe the cake was fine on its own. “Y’know what, I don’t think your plan worked.”

“Y'know what, I think you may be right,” Anne said as she ate another forkful of her perfectly normal pie.

Yes, Phil did finish the cake in the end, even without his trusty water at his side.

Phil’s twenty-fourth trip to the café was made the day after the previous one, hoping he could perhaps talk to Phineas and perhaps apologize–though, did he really do something wrong? Phil worked out what he would say on his journey there, which all turned out to be a waste of time as the man wasn’t even there.

Instead, a nice looking blonde woman smiled at him when it was his turn to order and said, “Welcome to _The Greatest Café_ , may I take your order?”

“I… uh.” He’d never actually ordered from the menu before. “Is there anything you’d recommend?”

“The cakes here are quite delicious, but my personal favorite is definitely the hot chocolate. Do either of those interest you?” It felt strange to actually be ordering something and be talking to someone who was acting professionally.

“I guess a hot chocolate is fine.”

The hot chocolate was beyond delicious, but as he sat there alone in the booth sipping a normal drink, everything felt off. Everything was off. Phineas wasn’t here, he didn’t make something awful for Phil to eat, and he wasn’t sitting across from Phil, sipping his coffee while trying not to laugh at Phil gagging at whatever he made. He should be here. Phil wished he was here.

Phil told himself, _he’ll be there next time_. So he came again. And again. Two times turned to four, then to ten, and by visit fifteen, he was getting sick of the taste of hot chocolate, no matter how good it tasted. Phineas was never there, and the woman, who he learned was named Charity, would give him a look of pity each time she served him a hot chocolate. Still, he kept returning, so much so no matter how crowded the restaurant was, that booth would always be empty when he arrived, like everyone already knew that’s where he sat, waiting for someone to show up again.

On visit thirty-two, he went into the shop as usual, ordering a hot chocolate from Charity as usual, and sat down at the booth as usual. What was unusual, though, was as he was peacefully sitting there and reading over a review he’d written last night, a plate was slammed onto the table in front of him rather loudly.

“Just take your fucking cake and leave already!” Phil looked up to meet the eyes of a seething Phineas.

“What?”

“Just eat it and leave!”

“It’s… it’s not even what I ordered.” 

“I don’t care. You’re always asking for my recommendation, aren’t you? Well, I recommend you stop coming here again and again. Your desperation is just pathetic at this point, and it’s getting annoying.” Phil, who had never heard such rude things come from Phineas–yeah, the food he made wasn’t exactly nice, but he’s never said things like this before. “So like I said, eat your cake and leave.”

“Okay,” Phil whispered, and he could feel the eyes of strangers glancing his way as they no doubt wondered what was happening, why this barista was shouting at a customer and what the words he was saying even mean. “I’m sorry.”

Phineas walked away, and Phil watched the back of his red coat until it disappeared into the kitchen. Then, he turned to the slice of cake. It was a dark shade of blue from god knows what was put in there, and with the way it was just slumping on the plate, it looked sad, incredibly so. Not sad like it was a bad attempt at baking a cake but sad like someone had taken its heart, crushed it into pieces, and handed it back laughing. When Phil tasted it, it practically melted in his mouth and tasted of nothing–perhaps water?–and he could practically feel the sadness oozing from it into him. Phil could only wonder if it was how Phineas was feeling all this time.

He didn’t go back. Anne called him a coward, which to be fair, yeah, he was, but it didn’t motivate him enough to really confront the shop again. The review wasn’t getting written either. In fact, that file had been deleted for a long time, and all Phil did was throw himself at his work, writing his reviews for dozens of other places. It was incredibly boring, and no restaurant was the same as the café. He eventually decides, with some pushing from Anne, to try to fix things, even if it was just to be able to eat the food there again.

While every other time he’d gone to the restaurant anytime from early morning to mid-afternoon, trip thirty-three was made a while later, so late the sun was setting when he arrived. He could recall–or just look up on the Internet–that around that time was when the pace closed. Phil arrived just in time, slowed down a little from the busy streets at the time of day, to see Phineas locking the doors to his shop.

“Hi,” Phil said. The clinking of keys stopped.

“Go away. We’re closed.” 

“Well, I’m banned from here, so it’s not like I could go in if it were open.”

Phineas glanced at him before turning back to the door. “You’re not banned, just unwelcome.”

“Feels like the same thing.” They just stood there in silence for a while before Phineas stepped away, leaving the locked door and walking in the opposite direction. “Phineas, wait, listen to me!”

Phineas kept walking, and Phil jogged after him.

“I’m sorry, okay? If you’ll just let me, I can fix whatever I did–”

“What do you mean whatever you did? What’s the point of apologizing if you don’t even know what you’re apologizing for,” Phineas said, stopping in his tracks to glare at Phil. It was a step up from speed walking away, though not a big one. “And you should know what you did. You led me on! You embarrassed me! You made me a fool!”

“I–what?” Phil was gaping at him, and Phineas just groaned.

“Look at it like this. Here you are, some cute guy walking into my store, and for a second, I almost think, hey, maybe I have a chance. And then you turn out to be a stupid critic, and alright, fine, fuck that then. I’ll treat you like all the others. You were just supposed to be like all the others. Everyone else just tried the food, got disgusted, wrote an even more disgusting review, and never came back! But you keep coming back! You ate everything, you keep coming back, and you still haven’t written anything about us yet! So maybe I think, you must be coming back because of me and then you bring your girlfriend, and honestly, you’re sending a lot of mixed signals here, Phil.” Phineas stared at him, and Phil’s never felt so small in his life. “What do you want from me?”

Phil could only squeak out, “You thought I was cute?”

“That’s all you got from my monologue?” Phineas rolled his eyes, but it couldn’t deceive anyone when accompanied by the red tint on his cheeks.

“Well, no, but that’s the part that confused me the most.” Phil had found it funny, but Phineas just frowned at the statement. “Well, that and the girlfriend thing.”

“What’s confusing about that?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that I’m gay.” Phil also thought what he said was incredibly funny, but Phineas just looked incredibly confused. “I mean, I don’t have a girlfriend. I think the last girl I dated was in middle school.”

“But the person from–”

“She thought it would get you to make the first move if we acted like that,” Phil said, and now that it was said out loud, it was both really embarrassing and really weird. “Y’know, because I’m kind of a coward.”

Phineas was grinning, though. “Me too. I mean, I just kept trying to bake you my feelings, but I don’t think they ever got through.”

“Those were your feelings?” Phil laughed. “And I thought I was the emotional wreck.”

“I can’t believe you were flirting with that girl just to make me jealous.”

“I can’t believe it worked.”

The next day, Phil woke up bright and early to write his review for _The Greatest Café_. It was the shortest one yet, saying: “I am completely biased, but its name does not lie. It has the best food and the best employees probably in the universe.”

After posting it and rushing out the door, Phil arrived at the aforementioned restaurant, closed to most other people this early in the morning. When he pushed open the door, Phineas waved at him from their booth. Phil just smiled back, the grin on his face wide and goofy, when he saw the plates‒two slices of horrific-looking cake.


End file.
